by Dan Zangari
“Like I said,” Tilthan sighs heavily and walks away from the others.
“Tilthan!” Cornar calls out and the thief stops but does not turn around, “Don’t even attempt to leave.”
“I’m just going to relieve myself,” the thief chuckles, “And why would I leave? I still need to get back to the White Duchess; all of my loot is still there.”
Several of the members of the expedition laugh at Tilthan’s crude humor but Cornar ignores him and further steers the council.
“There is something I want to investigate here in this forest that could help us. However, Kalder mentioned that Tilthan had a friend in Arbath, I think I know who he is talking about; perhaps he can aid us. I am also more familiar with that part of the Kingdom. So, I think we should make our way there–”
“Through the forest!” Amendal interrupts by crying out and raising a clenched fist into the air. “To Arbath!”
Slightly startled, Cornar glances to Amendal then continues, “We can move about the city with illusions on; as long as we avoid any gates or stations where there are mages posted.”
“I’m in agreement,” Ordreth speaks up, “We should go to Arbath. If Tilthan’s friend can help us sell our loot from Merda, then we can use that money to buy whatever aid we need to free Iltar.”
“Arbath is quite large,” Nordal says as he looks around at the others, “We can easily conceal ourselves there.”
“Is there another way we can get to Arbath?” Dith asks, “I don’t particularly feel like traveling through this forest again.”
“Why?” Hem asks the young conjurer in a surprised tone. “What’s so bad about trees?”
“Monsters!” Hagen squeaks out and shutters.
“Can it be worse than Merda?” Menal asks, “That was the most stressful place I’ve ever been.”
“I still have nightmares about this forest,” Dith speaks up, “And it’s been almost two years since I made the trek for my trials.”
“There isn’t another way,” Nordal speaks up, “We can’t travel the roads, nor can we moor in Arbath or attempt to secretly get off the ship before we reach the port. And we still have the Sorothian Navy searching for us; I’m sure they’ve blockaded Arbath already.”
“The forest is probably the safest route,” Dendra interjects, “I doubt the mages will come in here.”
“Why?” Hex asks as he studies the former guardswoman.
“It is a part of the Edicts of the Mage-King; no one is to step foot within the forest. Only by obtaining King Dorin’s permission can one enter the woodland; and that’s never going to happen. Not even His Majesty can grant that permission.”
“Then going through the forest is our best option,” Cornar states then looks to the three senior mages, “The three of you come back with me to the White Duchess; we need to inform Kenard of what is going on.
“Kalder, you’re in charge until we return.”
* * * * *
A quarter of an hour later, Cornar, Amendal, Hagen and Hex emerge from a golden portal at the bow of the White Duchess. The four companions shield their eyes from the bright sun overhead while they look around the vessel’s main deck, which is devoid of any of the crew; the sails are furled upon the yard arms and the lines are neatly rolled.
“Where are we?” Hagen asks as he and the others look over the rails of the ship. “It seems like its mid day.”
“Some island,” Hex shakes his head and shrugs. “Probably on the far side of the world.”
“They’re over there,” Cornar states as he points to the portside rail and the four companions move toward that side of the vessel.
Across the portside rail is a large bay with a sandy surf where many of the crew are playfully enjoying the crystal clear water or laying upon the beach. Further beyond the beach is a sparse tree line and beyond that shallow peaks which spread as far as the eye can see.
“Cadru!” Cornar calls out to Kenard’s first mate, who is among the nearest crewmen playing in the water, “Where is Kenard?!”
In response to the query, Cadru swims toward the White Duchess and as he nears the ship he calls out, “He was in his quarters with Remnillia when we left; that was about half an hour ago.”
Without a word, Cornar furrows his brow in disgust then walks away from the rail with the mages trailing behind him.
“Hex,” the leading warrior says in a loathing tone, “Get Kenard and bring him down to Iltar’s quarters.”
“Alright,” the wizard sighs as he and the others near the covered aft portion of the ship and enter the U-shaped corridor of the guest quarters.
Without any further conversation, the quartet proceeds through the corridor and to Iltar’s luxurious cabin.
As the warrior opens the doors to the dark necromancer’s quarters, Hex ascends the stairs leading to the galley and further up to the second deck above the main.
“You really do not like that elven wench do you?” Hagen asks Cornar as they and Amendal enter Iltar’s cabin.
“No, I don’t,” Cornar firmly states as he walks across the room and toward the two chairs and table along the starboard bulkhead of the space. Once there, the warrior leans down and pulls out the necromancer’s trunk.
“There is a locking spell on this chest,” Cornar says as he lifts the trunk up and places it on the table. “Hagen, dispel it.”
“It’s not trapped is it?” the illusionist squeaks out as he hesitantly comes to Cornar’s side.
“No,” the warrior states, “Iltar uses a simple locking spell; it’s the combination that has the trap.”
Hagen swallows hard and he utters the words to a dispelling incantation; white magic immediately gathers in his hands then wraps around the chest.
“It’s done.”
Cornar takes a deep breath and folds his arms, staring at the trunk.
“Well?” Amendal agitatedly demands, “Why don’t you open it?”
“I’m trying to remember the combination,” Cornar states. “If I get it wrong we’ll all die; Iltar constructed this dial in a fashion that would release bursts of life draining magic.”
“Uh,” Hagen mutters, “How did he do that?”
“We found something in the desolate lands while Iltar and myself were stranded there; it was a device that could store magic then be triggered by stroking its rear side. This dome in the middle of the dial is that device.
“If any part of the combination is missed or a disc is clicked out of order, it will trigger a mechanism at the back which will stroke the device and unleash the magic.”
“Then why don’t we leave the room!” Hagen hysterically states and steps back toward the doorway.
Chuckling, Cornar responds, “Whatever makes you feel safer.”
With that said, Cornar kneels down and looks directly at the domed dial of the chest, carefully studying the etched numbers in the common language of Kalda.
“Are you coming Amendal?” Hagen asks from the doorway.
“No!”
Ignoring the mages, Cornar takes in another deep breath and turns the dial back and forth five times when an unbinding tang resonates from within the trunk.
Smiling grimly, the warrior opens the lid and reveals the contents within: along the right side are five scroll cases along with three small pouches. Squarely placed on the opposite side is the metallic housing of the Au’misha’k; around the ancient draconic device are other magical objects.
Once the lid is opened, a faint conversation between Captain Kenard and Hex reaches the warrior’s ears from the stairwell.
“…are we going to do?”
“Cor has a plan,” Hex can be heard stating.
The warrior glances to his left and through the doorway where the wizard is leaving the last step and is walking toward the entrance of Iltar’s cabin. At Hex’s side is Captain Kenard, who has a plain beige sheet wrapped around his waist.
“Amendal,” Cornar says and motions for the old conjurer to step closer.
Without a word, Amendal removes Iltar’s severed pack and hands it to Cornar, who places it on the table. At this same moment, the wizard, illusionist and captain of the White Duchess enter the cabin.
“I can’t believe it!” Kenard sighs as he moves across Iltar’s quarters, holding his sheet around his waist. “How could Iltar get caught?”
“It’s a cruel turn of fate,” Cornar remarks as he opens Iltar’s pack and removes an elaborate white-metal object, faintly resembling a scroll case: Draconic claws protrude from its surface as well as sharp symbols. Several jewels are arrayed along its surface and sparkle as the warrior handles the object, placing it in the trunk.
“What is going to happen now?” Kenard asks frankly.
“Well, with him being imprisoned,” Cornar says as he grabs a red porous scroll case from Iltar’s pack, “Our plans have changed; we are currently hiding out in the forest of Melar. For the time being, we will be hunting wild game in the forest and shipping the meat back to you here.
“We’ll also bring our tents and other belongings back to the ship while we hike through the forest during the day.”
“For how long?”
“Until we make our way to Arbath,” the warrior replies and places the last of the three scroll cases within the chest. “Perhaps several months.”
“Well, we should be safe here,” Kenard states. “These are uncharted islands; at least from every sea chart I’ve seen. I don’t think my crew will mind.”
“Good,” Cornar states as he closes the trunk and stands up to face the captain. “But you will most likely be here for a long time. My plan will take awhile to put into action.”
Looking to each of the men in the room, Kenard hesitantly asks, “And what is this plan?”
“Let’s just say it will require us infiltrating the prison, a task that won’t be easy.
“But don’t fret Kenard,” Cornar extends his index finger to the captain, “Iltar will richly reward you for your patience and loyalty.”
“So I was told,” Kenard states and each of the men look at him with questioning expressions upon their faces.
“Remnillia told me what that amulet can do,” the captain states then asks, “Is there anything else you need to speak with me about?”
“Yes,” Cornar says, “I want one of your sea charts that shows the southern parts of the Kingdom of Los.”
“Alright, I’ll leave one outside the door to my cabin,” Kenard says and pushes his way past the mages and toward the door, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to that elven maid in my bed.”
Once the captain is out of the cabin and hastily climbing the stairs, Cornar looks to the short illusionist and says, “Hagen close the doors.”
“Cor,” Hex speaks up as he moves toward the aft of the cabin, “Are you thinking about exploring those ruins Iltar mentioned before he left for Alath?”
“Yes,” the warrior says and follows the wizard, moving toward the circular couch which faces the aft windows of the cabin. “Perhaps there are some magical devices in the ruins that can help us; besides nullifying that inhibiting magic I need to change what I look like, permanently, and not with illusionary magics – something that can’t be dispelled. We might also find some more treasures we can barter with.”
“But you said those ruins are from the dragon wars,” Hagen squeaks out as he walks from the doors to the couch, “That’s thousands of years old!”
“Magical objects seem to have a way of preserving themselves,” Amendal states and plops down on the far end of the couch.
“We don’t even know what we’re looking for,” Hagen sighs and takes a seat next to Amendal.
“No,” Cornar says then adds, “But I’m sure Remnillia does.”
“I thought you didn’t trust her?” Hex asks as he leans against the curving aft windows.
“I don’t,” Cornar states. “But we don’t have a choice. I haven’t the slightest inclination where else to look for such devices that can accomplish what we need to do.
“And because I don’t trust her, we will wait until we reach the ruins to bring her with us.”
“Do we even know where to look for these ruins?” Hagen asks then looks to Amendal, “You said it was a myth.”
“It’s on the map Iltar transcribed,” Cornar answers, “And it’s there in his trunk. I vaguely recall seeing the mark near the center of the forest.”
“And that’s why you want one of Kenard’s charts,” Hex speculates aloud, “To cross reference it.”
“Exactly.”
“Roaming around a forest with monsters,” Hagen sighs. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“It’ll be quite fun actually,” Amendal interjects with a cackle, “Strolling through the woods, then a yidoth leaps from the trees to pounce on you!”
“What’s a yidoth?” Hex asks.
“A large feline,” the old conjurer answers stoically, “They’re brown in color, sometimes with dark green spots. They live mostly in the temperate parts of the world.”
“Amendal,” Cornar looks to the old conjurer, “What dangers can we face as we move through the forest? What all did you encounter?”
“Nothing we can’t handle. It’s the gangolins that we need to watch out for, but they only reside within the deepest parts of the forest. But they sometimes migrate south at this time of the year.”
“Right where the ruins are I bet,” Hagen sighs and hangs his head low.
“What are they?”
“Enormous beasts, like the size of a dragon. They walk on four legs and have scaled bodies; but their scales have thick hairs protruding from them. They’re very sensitive to cold temperatures.”
Cornar turns around and looks out the window, staring at the beautiful shoreline beyond the aft of the White Duchess; he takes a deep breath then asks, “You’ve dealt with one I take it?”
“More than that!” Amendal cackles, “I can conjure them, but they are terribly hard to control. It takes all my concentration just to keep one under my influence. I’ve only ever used them once.
“Lorith encountered one as well, the same with Arintil; we all know how to conjure them.
“And this plan will fit perfectly, Dith can learn how to conjure one as well!”
“I take it he didn’t encounter one?” Hex asks, “But he seemed so shaken up about the forest.”
“Oh, he encountered one alright,” Amendal wryly smiles then laughs, “He just ran from it.”
“Are they more powerful than dragons Amendal?” Cornar asks as he walks away from the circular couch and toward Iltar’s open trunk.
“Physically yes, but they are stupid; they can’t muster magic.”
“I thought you said they were hard to control,” Hagen shakes his head as he looks to the old conjurer.
“They’re strong willed, but stupid.”
As Amendal finishes his demeaning remark, Cornar reaches the trunk and looks at the five scroll cases on the right side of the chest. He reaches for the nearest case then calls out, “One of you go see if Kenard left that chart outside of his cabin. We need to plan a route to the ruins before we return to the others.”
* * * * *
Nightfall has settled over the Melar forest when the leading quintet returns to their camp. As they walk toward the tents, Ordreth quietly approaches Cornar.
“Uncle,” the young warrior whispers, “I need to talk to you.”
“I assume not here?”
“Yes, perhaps in the clearing.”
The elder warrior nods his head, beckoning for Ordreth to come to his side as the three senior mages return to their tents. Cornar gently wraps his arm around his nephew’s shoulder as they make their way back to the clearing.
“What’s wrong Ordreth?” Cornar asks and turns to squarely face the younger warrior.
“Nothing is wrong,” Ordreth smiles then raises his opened right hand to his face then points to a ring on his middle finger. “Do you remember how I told you about the armor I
was wearing in Merda? The suit that felt like it was alive?”
“Yes.”
“This ring was part of the armor, called the ‘ring of magical displacement’, as well as this one,” Ordreth points to his fourth finger.
“Nehon told me that the ring of magical displacement can nullify magical effects. He went on to say that the notes created by the elves studying the armor told of how the rings were supposed to work, according to legend: The ring of magical displacement was created so that when a Cess’nal warrior and one of those human vampires would become locked in a battle, the Cess’nal would erect a barrier of barsion magic; like what happened when you fought Esmid. Once the Cess’nal severed the limbs of the vampire he would collapse the barrier on itself, trapping the pieces of the vampire inside. Supposedly the barsion magic would pass right through the Cess’nal.”
“That’s incredible!” Cornar whispers and is genuinely taken aback by his nephew’s words.
“We can use this to get Iltar out,” Ordreth smiles.
“As long as those stationed at the prison are not aware of such rings,” Cornar nods his head then wraps his arms around Ordreth, “Thank you.
“Now I just need to find a way to alter my appearance without magic that can be dispelled, and figure out how we’re going to smuggle in a rogulin crystal.”
8
Melar
Nearly a month and a half later, the members of Iltar’s expedition have pushed their way through the Melar forest; trekking through the dense woodland which has changed from a semi-tropical and temperate climate to a chilling forest of dormant trees.
On an early morning, along the outskirts of the camp set up between many of the leafless trees, Tilthan and Nemral are quietly conversing as they sit as lookouts.
“This place is too eerie,” Tilthan spits out as he rubs his chest, “It’s cold and it looks dead.”
“Well it is wintertime,” Nemral chuckles, “You weren’t expecting this to be a nice stroll through the jungle, were you?”
“I’m just tired of it,” Tilthan retorts. “How long have we been in these woods anyway? Why is it taking so long?”